


Ashen

by jottingprosaist (jane_potter)



Series: Set Fire to Our Bed [3]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Aftercare, Dissociation, Dubious Consent, Impact Play, M/M, Male Dragonborn | Dovahkiin/Brynjolf, Pain, Spanking, Subspace, Undernegotiated Kink, Very brief background mention of noncon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-28
Updated: 2017-10-28
Packaged: 2019-01-25 10:31:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12529324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jane_potter/pseuds/jottingprosaist
Summary: It's been three days since Brynjolf fucked Alik in the Ratway and sent him into hiding. Brynjolf hasn't come back for him. Alik is desperate enough to take the next best thing.





	Ashen

**Author's Note:**

> This one is even more psychologically screwy than the last one. Note the tags. Skip to the end notes if you want a fuller explanation of how the tags apply.
> 
> Otherwise... enjoy. ;)

Three days.

Three days Alik had been locked up alone in this hot, airless room.

And Brynjolf hadn't sent for him.

Driven more by boredom than thirst, Alik dropped an arm off the side of the bed and felt about for a bottle on the floor. Three were empty; one was full, but he caught the smell of piss before he uncorked it. Nose wrinkled, he dropped it again.

Thieves before him had stocked the tiny safe house with an assortment of pilfered books, but Alik had little use for the written word. He'd made better use of the mead barrel— especially on the first night, when he'd wanted to drink away the humiliation and memories of Mercer's hands— but his hangover, and the need to conserve the Guild's resources, had prevented him from indulging again. The stockpile of brittle rye flatbread and porridge oats was more of an insult than a distraction.

His enthusiasm for having a room to himself had long since worn off. He'd been pacing the tight turn of Redvane Manor's garret for days. His joints ached from too much time spent lying about. He still _hurt_.

And Brynjolf hadn't sent for him.

Oh, he'd sent _word_. The second day, Alik had woken to find a slip of paper on the floor beneath the window that said only, _No luck with a job. Stay put_.

But Brynjolf hadn’t woken Alik to tell him face to face.

Alik had fumed over the note, spat curses, burned the paper, regretted the loss, and then fumed some more. His anger had been strangled by the confines of the garret, by the need to keep quiet and ensure the manor appeared unoccupied. His _breath_ felt strangled, his chest, his arms and his legs, all his anxious energy bound as if he were in chains. He was dizzy. He was trapped. He was alone.

He hurt.

A growing hollowness in Alik's chest was beginning to convince him that Brynjolf wasn't going to call him back to the Guild. After all, what had Alik shown him? That Alik was a terrible thief, a useless crying mess, a— a pathetic cockslut who had— had—

Alik rolled onto his side and dug his fingernails into his face, so humiliated that he could retch. He'd ruined everything. His position in the Guild, his chance at getting out of the gutter, his _belonging_. All because he'd let Brynjolf see his pitiful little crush.

Or maybe because Brynjolf had returned his interest... until he found out that Alik wasn't any good.

Unable to hold still, Alik flung himself to his feet and paced frenetic circles around the garret, nearly knocking into the walls at each sudden turn. He scraped his knuckles against the walls and kicked the baseboards and butted his head against a low sloping rafter until he was worn out, battered back down to aching lethargy once again.

Panting, Alik pressed his face against the window frame so that he could peer at the world outside. The sun was bright and clear. From within the dim, hot garret, Riften's green water and dark stone streets looked cool and inviting. Precious little air came through the shutter's tilted louvers. Alik couldn't open the louvers fully for fear of a guard spying an open window in a supposedly unoccupied manor. The restriction chafed almost as much as the results.

The pedestrians strolling past Redvane Manor were well-heeled and wealthy; Alik didn't have to see them close-up to know it. They were ambling about Dryside, weren't they? Not working, not even out buying daily necessities or cooking their own dinners. If Alik could only get his hands on a few of those purses, he'd be able to show Brynjolf he wasn't useless after all. If he left the garret for just a few hours...

And if he got caught, Mercer would let him rot in jail for sure. Worse, a guard might notice Alik creeping out of the manor and find the Guild's safe house. Or it might be Maul who found Alik and dragged him off to Maven for fish bait. The very thought made Alik's guts liquefy.

A group of women went by, Nivenor’s strident voice unmistakable among them. An Argonian nanny chased two children down the street. A dog pissed on a wrought-iron gate and got kicked at by a guard. That would be one of the guards who now took coin to look out for rich families, then, rather than the Guild.

There was someone standing across from the manor.

Alik dared to tilt the louvers a little wider in order to see. In the cool shade beneath an opposing manor's second-story balcony, there was a man slouching against a barrel. Smoke from his pipe curled up into the sunlight. He was coolly staring up at the manors across from him— at Redvane.

No, not at Redvane, surely. Alik had never lit a fire, had kept his tiny candle far from the window at night, hadn't opened the shutters, hadn't made noise or... No. Not at the safe house. Not—

—yes, he was looking directly at Alik's window.

 _Maven_ , Alik though, his heart pounding, before the man shifted forward just enough for Alik to make out the dashes of red paint on his cheeks.

It was Thrynn. He looked strange without his Guild armour, though his folded arms flexed as powerfully as ever. Not quite vulnerable, just like a piece of himself was missing. His unfamiliar merchant's clothing was necessary to blend in during daylight, though.

Receding panic left Alik quivery, nowhere near calm. But Thrynn was no threat. And what if Brynjolf had sent him?

Cautiously, Alik pushed the louvers fully open so that Thrynn could see him, or at least his outline. Below, Thrynn exhaled a sudden cloud of smoke. He nodded up at Alik. Then he straightened up, tapped out his pipe against a post, and came across the road with business in his step.

Alik snapped the louvers shut, heart racing again.

Thrynn was a full Guild member; he obviously knew a more discreet way to get into Redvane than the front door. A minute or two later, Alik heard soft footsteps on the floor below. He sat on the bed, then fumbled back to sprawl against the headboard, trying to appear relaxed.

The ladder up to the garret creaked. Thrynn appeared through the hole in the floor. Alik gave a weak wave.

"Well, _there_ you are," Thrynn said. Still only halfway up the angled ladder, he leaned back to rest his butt against the edge of the floor, boots planted on the ladder's rungs. The look he gave Alik was... speculative.

"Did Brynjolf send you?" Alik asked, then felt like an idiot.

"Nah," Thrynn said. "He's had his mouth shut tight about where he stashed you. I hear Maven's still pissed. Mercer wants to know just because he thinks he has a right to know everything."

Alik's throat had choked up painfully. "Then... why'd you..."

"Wanted to see how you were," Thrynn said, as if it should be obvious. Was it? Had Alik... ever really talked to Thrynn? The man didn't seem to be here to laugh at him, at least, which was what Alik had been having nightmares about.

"Took me a little while to find you," Thrynn added. "I've been to three of the other safe houses. My luck you moved the shutter."

"Oh," Alik said again. He swallowed. He moved his hands restlessly, anxious under Thrynn's gaze. Unable to remain sprawled and vulnerable, he suddenly sat up and hunched over the edge of the bed. "How is everyone?"

"Still talking about it," Thrynn said baldly. It wasn't the answer to the question, but it was the answer to the question Alik had _meant_. Of course Thrynn knew what Alik was afraid of. "Vex is pissed. Brynjolf almost took a strip off Dirge for some joke."

Without meaning to, Alik covered his face.

"How are you?"

Alik looked up, smiling with all his teeth. "Perfect. I got my ass beat in front of the entire Guild. I'm _thrilled_."

"Still hurting?"

"I could go again right now," Alik sniped, as if he didn't still have welts that stung to touch. As if he didn't want to climb a high roof and take the short way down.

Thrynn laughed, his throat a muscular stretch. "Yeah?" he said, low, drawing the word out, looking back at Alik with renewed frankness.

And Alik suddenly remembered the way Thrynn had _watched_ while Mercer bent Alik over.

A hot, prickling flush rolled over Alik's skin. He couldn't tell if he was remembering humiliation or feeling it fresh. "Came to see for yourself, then?" Alik asked, a little too brightly, a little too keen. The heat of memory brought his body's ache into sharp contrast, made him feel brittle, ready to tip over an edge he'd been on for days. He hurt, and he was alone, and he wanted Brynjolf's hands back on him— wanted _Brynjolf_ , even just as his mentor—

But Brynjolf wasn't here, and Thrynn was. And Thrynn still wanted him.

"Is there something to see?" Thrynn asked, but his tone asked for _more_ , and his eyes wandered blatantly.

"My ass," Alik said, before he could be afraid of rejection or the consequences. He felt desperate but couldn't care how dangerous that was. "Isn't that what everyone's talking about? You can't have gotten _that_ good of a look before."

Thrynn grinned. "Oh, good. You're gonna be straight up about it. I got no patience for dancing around this stuff." Grinning, he pushed off the edge of the floor and climbed up into the garret.

"Good," Alik said. Another hot flush swept over him. Maybe it was just the low roof of the garret, but Thrynn seemed so much bigger than ever before. "That what you came for, then?"

"Well, I wasn't gonna push if you said no. Never hurts to ask, though."

"You liked what you saw," Alik said, reckless. Raw and hungry. "You want..."

Words failed him. He couldn't articulate what he wanted, or what he thought Thrynn might want: to look, to hit him, to touch him, or— more. Thrynn wasn't Brynjolf, and he wasn't one of Alik's friends from Beggar's Row. Alik didn’t know him. Didn’t know what he’d do.

But Thrynn seemed unbothered by Alik's sudden hesitation. "Yeah," he said, his voice dropped low and satisfied, confident now that he had permission. "You like it rough like that?"

"Sure," Alik said, without thinking for a moment. "Yeah."

Did he? A week ago, he wouldn't have said so… but Mercer had made him hard. Mercer and his brutal, relentless iron hand. Alik had hurt and he’d wept and he'd liked it. If Thrynn did the same…

Thrynn lifted a hand, curled his fingers just a twitch, his eyebrows questioning. Alik jolted to his feet, struck with the realization that sitting on the bed across the room from Thrynn looked an awful lot like hesitation. He crossed the garret on hasty, unsteady legs.

"Hey," Thrynn said, smirking, and kissed him.

Alik hadn't expected it. He froze, shocked, only to melt just as instinctively into the hot rush of touch. Thrynn's hands on him whited out all thought, all reaction beyond _fuck_ and _gods_ and _please he wants me he's touching me_. Alik moaned, scrabbled at Thrynn's shirt and pulled himself up open-mouthed into the kiss.

Thrynn laughed as he thrust his tongue into Alik's mouth. His teeth knocked, raked Alik's lip; his tongue drew back and swept in again. Alik felt like loot to be rifled through, turned and taken by satisfied hands. He kept his mouth open to be plundered and hung on.

Thrynn's hands made their way down his back, his sides, confident as anything. One big palm patted Alik's ass in a friendly way, making him jump. He thrust his hips against Thrynn, not sure if he was eager or wanting to seem eager; either way, Thrynn laughed again and it was good.

Then Thrynn's hand caught his welted asscheek and _squeezed_. Alik yelped in pain, scrabbling momentarily for escape, except that it only drove him against Thrynn, who held him even tighter. The sudden shock didn't prevent Alik from feeling Thrynn's mouth drop open for a hard breath at Alik's pain.

"You like hurting me?" Alik panted, trying to make it sound like a tease. His throat was choked.

"Some, yeah," Thrynn rasped. For the first time, he looked affected, not as if he was indulging in Alik like a casual mug of ale. "As long as you don't mind."

A shudder dragged pleasure down Alik's spine. "No, do it," Alik said, embarrassed to voice his _want_ — and his cock jumped at the sick hot squeeze of humiliation. "Do it like Mercer did. Bend me over. Hold— hold me—"

Thrynn slapped his ass _hard_ , so Alik didn't have to force himself to finish. He gave a stifled keen in his throat, half pain and half relief. Pinning Alik tight to his body with an arm across his lower back, Thrynn fumbled back into another kiss even as he struck Alik's ass again. Alik clawed at Thrynn’s shirt, his arms, trying to climb away from the pain, into the heat, the touching, except that Thrynn hit him again, and he’d keep hitting him, because Alik had told him to, he wasn’t going to stop and oh, oh, _oh_.

Finally Alik couldn’t take any more— but he caught himself before saying _stop_. He couldn’t show Thrynn how weak he actually was and ruin it. No, he couldn’t do _anything_ except keep writhing helplessly in Thrynn’s arms.

Couldn’t stop it— still couldn’t take it— until the pain was so unbearable that it overrode all thought, filled up his whole body and made Alik sink his nails into Thrynn’s arms in the desperate attempt to give the blinding pain an outlet.

The next slap didn’t come. Thrynn leaned back from the kiss enough to laugh.

Alik gasped, only then feeling how tight his entire body had clenched. Relaxing every muscle one at a time took effort. His blood was fizzing. When Thrynn kissed him again, all Alik could do was hold his mouth open for it, dizzy, floating.

“C’mere,” Thrynn rumbled. The scratch of Thrynn's whiskers made him shudder.

Come where? Backward, clumsy steps— the bed. Thrynn pressed Alik down on it and came down after him, warm and heavy. A few breathless moments later, he stood up again, leaving Alik panting and prone. His mind was _blank_ and it was _so good_.

“Roll over,” Thrynn said.

Dizzy, shaky, Alik did it without thinking. That was the best part, the not thinking. There was nothing but what Thrynn made him feel and all he had to do was take it. That was all Thrynn wanted from him.

“You gonna show me that ass again?”

Embarrassment made his gut twist and his cock jump. “Yeah,” Alik gasped, fumbling under himself for his belt. He pushed at his pants and squirmed back until his knees thumped down on the floorboards, leaving him bent bare-assed over the edge of the bed with his pants around his thighs. Trembly, unable to tell if he was terrified or unbearably excited, Alik waited.

“Sweet Dibella,” Thrynn said.

Alik jumped at the heat of a big palm on his ass. It was a touch of admiration, a gentle stroke and pat. Thrynn grazed a sharp spot that must have been one of the welts from Mercer’s ruler, then moved on to an affectionate stroke over his whole sore asscheek. “That’s nice,” he was muttering. “Looks good like that.” Alik grunted into the bed’s furs, overwhelmed by the sensation of his brain curling with animal pleasure.

Thrynn’s next slap was a blinding shock. Alik screamed, jolting away, only for Thrynn to grab him by the shoulder. Even before Thrynn hissed, “Quiet! They can hear that outside,” Alik had stuffed a knuckle between his teeth. His stomach curled with humiliation. Here he was, whining like a little baby _again_.

Thrynn tugged his hand away from his mouth. “Noise is fine,” he rumbled in Alik’s ear. “Just quiet. Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Alik croaked.

Before the next blow, Thrynn gave his ass a warning stroke. Alik took the slap in silence, clenching and unclenching as the slow wave of pain crested and receded. It left him hot, shaky, shivery with anticipation for the next.

And the next.

And the next.

Thrynn didn’t seem to tire of hitting him. When he paused for a while, though, Alik glanced over his shoulder to see Thrynn squeezing his cock through his trousers. It formed a considerable bulge on his left thigh. He _did_ like hurting Alik then. _Really_ liked it, the way a man could like noise or big tits or oiled handjobs, which Alik could hardly understand— but then, didn’t Alik like being hit? Wasn’t his cock pressed thick against his stomach, twitching whenever Thrynn so much as hummed?

Thrynn didn’t hit like Mercer, either, didn’t lay into Alik just as hard and fast as he could. He spanked one side of Alik’s ass and then the other, spreading the pain out evenly in a way that turned Alik’s brain to jelly. Thrynn coddled him with gentle swats, merciful little stings that left Alik whimpering in gratitude that surely the pain was over now, only to wind up and deliver a resounding slap to the tender underside of Alik’s asscheeks. When Alik muffled a scream on his wrist and clawed into the furs like a desperate cat, Thrynn petted his hair and _praised_ the shameful tear leaking down his face.

And every time Alik thought he couldn’t take any more, every time he found himself driven so mad with agony that he was starting to climb the bed, kick at the floorboards sheer helpless desperation to _escape_ , Thrynn stopped. Let him come down from the blinding agony, into a slow steady thrum of red heat that spread through his whole body.

Divines, the red. The red was everywhere, and it was almost soothing, the way Alik’s brain was rocked by the beat of blood and pain throbbing through raw flesh. His ass. His cock. His body, everywhere Thrynn touched.

The mercy went on for longer than Alik had come to expect. He swore he could feel the bed swaying beneath him, the floor rocking like a lake barge. There was salt on his lips: tears and sweat. Divines. Good. Yes.

And those were Thrynn’s hands again, this time not hurting, just easing Alik’s shirt up his sides. Alik mumbled into the damp furs, heard Thrynn reply indistinctly, didn’t understand. He still let Thrynn pull his shirt off.

“Hey.” Thrynn nuzzled his ear, prickly and close. Alik shuddered because he could do nothing else; he was rubbed raw and every touch was tremendous. “You wanna get fucked?”

The word sank into Alik like a rock into water, plunging deep and spreading ripples through his whole body. _Fucked_. Thrynn wanted to fuck him. And Alik was so worked up, so raw and pliant and greedy, that for the first time the idea made him think of pleasure ( _hot red good yes more_ ) rather than of the fearful way his street friends mumbled about guards or older toughs who’d fucked them.

“Yeah,” Alik said. His throat was so wrung that the word came out more like a sound, crackling and raw. But Thrynn rewarded him with a satisfied grunt and hot hands gripping his sides.

Pleased, Alik shimmied in Thrynn’s hands, rewarded again with a whiskery kiss against his throat and shoulder as Thrynn held on tight regardless.

“Yeah,” Alik said again, swimming back into some kind of awareness now that he had to use language. “Yeah. Fuck.” It made him shudder. “ _Fuck_ me.”

Then Thrynn was gripping his hips hard, and _ah_ , ha, he was lifting Alik bodily onto the bed, sending him scrabbling to support his upper body as he was shoved forward.

A jolt of clarity knocked into Alik’s warm haze. Hands, elbows, feet— he had to think about his body again, how to hold it up, where to move his eyes. But it was all right, because Thrynn was still there, kissing Alik’s shoulder, _biting_ him, kissing again, stroking his shiver-sensitive sides, hips, thighs— oh. Pulling his pants the rest of the way off.

Good. Yes. He was getting fucked. He wanted this. Because Thrynn was still touching him.

What was he supposed to do, though? Just wait for it? What if he was supposed to participate, or— surely he was supposed to participate. Not just take it like a dead fish. What did he do for Thrynn?

Cowed by the first curl of uncertainty through his gut, Alik forced himself to look over his shoulder. Thrynn was still kissing his shoulder blade. “Like this?” Alik whispered, unable to articulate a more precise question because he didn’t know _what he was asking_.

“You want it like this?”

“Yeah,” Alik said hastily. “Like— _shit_!” Thrynn had squeezed his ass hard, awakening the pain that had subsided into a dull ache. “Yeah, okay,” he gasped, and reached down to palm his cock because it had leaped so hard that it hit his stomach.

“Ah, _Void_ ,” Thrynn muttered, sounding shaken. “Keep touching yourself. Dibella, that’s nice.”

A fresh shiver of pleasure went through Alik, and okay, if fucking was like this then he could do it. Flushing, Alik ducked his head and pulled his cock again, slow and hard. He spread his knees, too, shoulders sinking low for support (showing his ass, _Divines_ , but how it made Thrynn groan). He tugged his foreskin up high and slipped the tip of his thumb into it, then slid his thumb in a slow, brilliant circle around the head of his cock. The sensation made his spine arch even more. Every touch was a shower of sparks from how sensitive his cockhead was, how wet it was inside his foreskin with all the slick he’d been leaking.

Thrynn hit him again, and whether it was a reward or a punishment Alik couldn’t tell. He fell forward to muffle his noise in the furs.

The mattress sank as Thrynn climbed on. Alik shifted forward to give him room, not that there was much with him facing sideways on the narrow bed. Thrynn didn’t seem to care; he was holding Alik’s hip, touching his sore ass, _oh_ , his crack, his hole, rubbing the sweat-slippery sensitive furl of it. Alik couldn’t help but clench in reaction. It made Thrynn chuckle.

Then Thrynn’s finger came back even slipperier. Grease, or some kind of salve from the little ceramic jar he tossed onto the mattress beside Alik.

(Dibella, he’d come prepared. He’d _hoped_ he’d get to fuck Alik.)

Alik stroked his cock to distract himself, trying to concentrate on how good it felt, not the paranoid prickle up his spine. It was the nervy thrill he felt before every robbery, the fear that shrilled because he didn’t know whether he was plunging into success or danger. But Thrynn was touching him, wanted him, wanted to—

 _Fuck_ , and his finger was inside Alik, pushing deep, strange and unlike anything else. Alik yelped and jolted before he could control himself. To make up for it, he rocked back against Thrynn’s finger, hoping he hadn’t looked scared, pathetic. He almost regretted— did he regret?— when Thrynn laughed and bit his shoulder and pushed in a second finger. Together they were _thick_ , and Alik felt tight and strange and hard like an unripe plum.

“Yeah?” Thrynn asked.

The noise that came out of Alik was reedy, tremulous. He didn’t know what it meant. He shifted, trying to adjust, and accidentally clenched on Thrynn’s fingers. It took the sensation from tightness to _pain_ , making him yelp.

“Dibella, you’re tight,” muttered Thrynn, in the voice of someone pleased with treasure plucked blindly from a mark’s pocket.

That was good, Alik remembered; tight was good, and he wanted to be good, even though the thought of being fucked while feeling like _this_ made him shudder and whine, fear curling his stomach.

Reaching for pleasure again, Alik went back to jerking his cock. Thrynn kept fingering him, working to pry open his hole. Each unexpected twinge and stretch made Alik jerk helplessly. It was like the spanking all over again: he didn’t know if he liked it, if he wanted to stop, if he could endure. But while he was confused, it kept happening and he kept enduring and he was hard, so hard, cock throbbing in his palm every time Thrynn’s fingers made a slick noise. That was Alik, he was slick, he was that filthy noise— getting fucked— about to get fucked, hot and sticky, jerking his cock faster and faster, gasping _ah, ah, **ah**_ with his hips bucking onto Thrynn’s hand like an animal in heat.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Thrynn rasped, digging his nails into Alik’s hip. Alik barely realized that Thrynn’s fingers had been pulled _out_ of him before Thrynn’s cock was pushing pushing and _in_ , sudden. It punched the breath from Alik’s lungs in a startled cry, shoved him forward, but Thrynn was holding him back, holding his hips in place to fuck.

Fuck. Fucking. He was big and Alik was speared, gasping, knocked from his pleasure into a body where everything was clenched, rusted shut. And oh, _oh_ , Thrynn was still fucking him, sliding back and in farther, working his cock deeper. Alik had his knees spread and his ass up and he was taking it. He was. He.

He screwed his eyes shut and clenched one fist in the bed’s furs, trying to just _endure_. Thrynn wanted him like this, and he wanted to be good, be so good. He wanted it to feel good again, not just— _huge_ , hard, not-quite-hurting, fucking him open in short thrusts that knocked his breath out. Struggling to breathe despite the heavy rhythm, Alik squeezed his cock and pumped desperately.

“You like that?” Thrynn asked, and all Alik could say was _uh, uh, uh, **uhhhn**_ when Thrynn thrust in extra hard, sending a jolt of raw sensation through Alik’s guts.

It hurt for sure now, a dull ache where he was stretched around Thrynn’s cock so deep it felt like a club, but pleasure was a white-hot spot behind Alik’s belly button that he was chasing, determined to succeed. He couldn’t disappoint. He couldn’t _fail_ at this. Couldn’t stand to have the memory of his first time be some sour, humiliating thing, another failure in a lifetime of failures, gods, he just wanted to feel _good_ , good in Thrynn’s hands, good on his cock, hot, gasping, filthy, needy—

Orgasm twisted him up so tight that it _hurt_. It hurt to clench so hard around Thrynn’s cock but he couldn’t help it. Thrynn was swearing, holding Alik’s hips tightly in place even as Alik tried to get away, to get off his cock, to collapse on the bed. Thrynn kept Alik impaled on his cock and all Alik could do was ride his climax out in helpless little twitches, fucking himself on Thrynn’s cock even though he didn’t want to, fucking his seed out into his palm, jerking himself to get it _over_ with, done, and make it stop because it wasn’t even pleasure, it was just sensation and it _hurt_ , he hurt, he couldn’t—

—and Thrynn moved again, sinking his cock the rest of the way in with a loud groan.

It was too big, too deep, right up to his throat and fit to make him _burst_. Alik’s despair erupted as a loud cry, shriller than he wanted. He felt the words coming up like vomit: _wait no please wait no **stop**._

At the last second, he wrestled his instincts under control. Thrynn’s next thrust almost undid it all, but Alik endured. The sensation crested and he trembled through it. He could. Everything hurt and he was shaking, but he could do this.

“By the Eight, look at you. Ass of Dibella herself. So tight. You know how you sound?”

Thrynn was fucking him slowly, taking deep breaths like he had to control himself. Because of how he wanted Alik.

Shoulders braced, head hanging, Alik took it.

He could hear himself whining with every thrust. His voice choked because his nose was stuffed and he was— he was definitely crying. Had been for a while, between the hitting and the size of Thrynn’s cock. It was humiliating, terrifying (what if Thrynn _saw_?) but Alik couldn’t stop it. He had enough to handle just trying to keep his head each time Thrynn’s cock sank into him again.

Thrynn praised him for every noise. That helped.

“You like that?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Alik said, almost a sob.

 _It’s not that bad_ , he told himself, trying to snap out of it. Even in his own head he sounded a bit hysterical.

But it _wasn’t_ so bad. The raw screaming oversensitivity of his climax was fading, plumming out like an old bruise. All that remained was a dull ache in his gut and a small, sharp pain every time Thrynn thrust in.

He was torn, Alik realized. It was a small hurt, though. He’d had worse. So if he could just _control_ himself…

Bit by bit Thrynn picked up the pace again; his words trailed off into concentrating grunts. That was good, Alik told himself, clenching his teeth on his own noise. It was harder to breathe, like Thrynn’s cock went deep enough to hit his lungs (gods, was it? _could_ he?), but the faster Thrynn fucked him, the faster he’d finish. And it meant Thrynn was _enjoying_ him.

 _Yes_ , Alik told himself, even as Thrynn almost knocked him face-first into the wall. Alik threw up his palm against the boards to brace himself.

Thrynn gave a frustrated noise and hauled Alik back by the hips, sinking his cock so deep that Alik’s vision went white.

 _ **Yes**_ , he reminded himself, though for a moment he couldn’t remember why.

“What’s that?” Thrynn grunted, his beard scratching Alik’s shoulder.

“Yes,” Alik hissed through clenched teeth, barely able to make it a word. Every thrust shoved his breath out and he made it that word. “Yes. Yes. ‘es. ‘es. ‘ _es_.”

Did that turn Thrynn on? He hoped so. He needed Thrynn to finish, needed it desperately. The pain was spreading. His pelvis hurt like it was splitting one hair at a time.

“Yes. Yes. _Please_. I need. Please.” _Finish_. “Please!”

“ _Fuck_.”

Faster was worse, faster was so much worse, jolting Alik in his bones, burning every raw inch of him. His teeth rattled. His eyes were watering again. He felt _ridden_ , like he was a stolen horse and Thrynn didn’t care if he drove Alik frothing into the ground.

“ _Please_!”

Bracing against the wall wasn’t enough; his arms were too tired. When Alik’s knees slipped on the furs from the force of Thrynn's fucking, he couldn’t pull himself up again. Thrynn growled— angry? desperate?— and kept fucking regardless, shoving Alik down flat on the bed and pounding into him.

It _hurt_ —

Grunting filthy noise into Alik’s ear, Thrynn slammed his cock in hard and kept it there, grinding his hips hard against Alik’s ass like he was trying to force it even deeper. Despairing agony rose up out of Alik’s throat in a groan half-suffocated from the weight on top of him.

With his mind blank from the endless pain, it took Alik a long time to realize that Thrynn was coming. He couldn’t react to it, beyond a numb relief. All he could do was lie there and… take it. He was used up. Thrynn had fucked him hollow and was filling him up, groaning against his neck.

Except for the slow, shallow jerk of Thrynn’s hips dragging the climax out, it was done.

Then even that was over.

In the stillness, Alik felt how Thrynn was shaking. Heard the click of his throat as he swallowed. Thrynn nosed the back of his neck, stirring Alik’s curls with his slow deep breaths. His fingers flexed on Alik’s hips… relaxed their bruising grip... stroked his flanks. Slow, gentle, he pulled his cock out and shifted his weight off Alik.

Alik could breathe again.

He was shivering almost too hard to breathe.

“Hey,” Thrynn rasped. His hand ran up Alik’s spine, across his shoulder. “Ha. C’mere.”

It took Alik a moment to stir. He didn’t _want_ to move, except that Thrynn’s gentle tug was relentless. Hadn’t Thrynn had enough? What else did he want from Alik?

His frustrated whine made Thrynn chuckle. Thrynn kept moving him, though, merciless. Alik wanted to close his eyes. What did he _want_ , moving Alik around on the bed, pulling at the furs beneath him…

Oh.

Thrynn had wrapped an arm around him. Was lying snug beside him, hot and solid.

Barely able to process that, let alone anything else, Alik curled blindly into the warmth and put his head on Thrynn’s shoulder. Thrynn pulled him even closer.

Thank the Divines, every one of them. That was what Alik wanted. All he wanted.

He was breathing too noisily. He was sweating, sticky. His nose was clogged and his left hand was crusted with dry seed. But Thrynn kept lying there, holding him, petting his back and neck and hair in a way that Alik couldn’t force himself to give up.

“You okay?”

All Alik could make was noise, small and garbled. Misery crushed him at the thought that Thrynn would make him move when things had only just started to feel good again.

Thrynn didn’t, though. It kept being good.

Eventually Thrynn tried to pull the fur blanket from under Alik again; this time Alik was cognizant enough to let him. Even though the garret remained stiflingly hot, Alik’s sweat had cooled. The coarse warmth of bearskin had never been so welcome. And it was heavy, secure, when Alik’s limbs were tingling and his body felt light enough to float away. His head was loose. _Was_ he floating?

What was happening to him?

Thrynn’s hands helped. When the next wave of shivering swept over Alik, Thrynn pulled him closer and held on.

At last, Thrynn asked again, “You good?”

This time, Alik managed to croak, “Yeah.” It was a lie, but at least he felt like it might be true soon. He could breathe properly again; he could make his fingers work. His head was… It would be working in a bit.

“Haven’t done anything like that in a long while,” Thrynn rumbled, tracing circles on the back of Alik’s neck. He sounded so _fond_. “You’re a tough little thing, aren’t you.”

 _Not little_ , Alik thought, but his resentment was eclipsed by the warm glow of gratification.

“You mind if I stay?”

“No,” Alik said instantly. “Yes. I mean, stay.”

Thrynn stretched his legs and settled, sighing with satisfaction. “Yeah. I mean… I like hurting people, you know? But I don’t like being mean afterward. I like how it feels, taking care of somebody.”

 _Thank the Divines_. Alik barely stopped himself from saying it aloud.

As good as he felt in Thrynn’s arms, he was still in pain. His backside still hurt everywhere Thrynn had hit him, the skin hot and too tight. His asshole was stretched, tender. It hurt to clench, to move even a little. Gods, he was wet down there. Messy. Fucked full of seed. And there was a bruising ache deep in his gut, like every inch of his insides had been pummelled.

Alik’s mind flinched away from the thought. Shivering, he pressed closer to Thrynn entirely so that he’d be petted and nuzzled and held closer. Thrynn didn't disappoint.

It was good. It was so good.

"Y'know, you look real nice when you cry," Thrynn said, almost shyly. It was the first time he'd sounded anything less than utterly confident. His finger traced the dry tear tracks on Alik's cheek. "Etienne doesn't cry so easy. Not so pretty, either."

Alik was  _nothing_ like pretty, so the compliment made him squirm with unaccustomed pleasure. He actually felt guilty, like he was stealing praise that didn't belong to him.

—Had Thrynn said...?

"Etienne?"

After a moment, Thrynn mumbled, "Void take it. Don't tell anybody. But you're like him, so I guess he wouldn't mind you knowing."

Etienne... liked Thrynn hurting him too? Alik knew the man only vaguely. He was a Breton, one of Vex's second-story men, and among the fully-fledged Guild members who weren't actively hostile to newcomers. Alik had just never had a reason to see much of Etienne.

He might have to, now.

But that revelation was less important than Alik's new anxiety. Bad enough that half the Guild had seen Mercer bend him over; if Thrynn told them Alik _liked_ it, how he had'd begged and cried for it... Gods, that would be even worse than Brynjolf knowing he was pathetic. That would be  _everybody_.

"You won't... Don't tell anybody about this. Will you?" Alik couldn't make it sound like an order.

"Mm." Thrynn squeezed him. "Not if you don't want me to. Won't say a word."

That didn't entirely reassure Alik. Before he could press, though, Thrynn added, “Wouldn’t mind doing this again some time. Whenever you like.”

His voice was sleep-slurry, sated. So satisfied with Alik. He sounded like he was talking about drinks and dice. Yet it was precisely the casual familiarity of the offer that made Alik’s chest swell, shutting out his anxiety.

He hadn’t ruined everything. He'd shown Thrynn exactly how pathetic he could be, and Thrynn didn't mind. Even if Alik couldn't go back to the Guild, he had something in his future worth looking forward too.

Burrowing further down Thrynn’s chest, Alik mumbled, “Yeah. Any time.”

It... wasn’t what he’d wanted. Not all of it. It wasn’t— and there was the stupidest lump in his throat— wasn’t with Brynjolf. Because Brynjolf hadn’t come for him.

But if this was what Alik could get, he’d take it. Any day.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so.
> 
> Re: the dubcon.
> 
> Alik's consent was explicit and ongoing, but not enthusiastic or informed. Thrynn, as I intended to portray him, did not wilfully ignore Alik's hesitation or ignorance; Alik managed to hide those. He did not interpret Alik's signs of pain as reasons to stop the sex because the two of them specifically agreed to consensual painplay. Thrynn did _not_ negotiate the kink well because he assumed that Alik had experience, knew what he wanted, and knew what he was getting into. That's not safe. But in general, Thrynn did okay with the signs Alik gave him.
> 
> _Please don't ever, ever do anything that Alik does in this fic._
> 
> Don't consent to sexual acts you don't fully want. Don't consent to sexual acts solely because your partner wants them. Don't give verbal consent for any reason other than because you want to keep having sex. Don't feel obligated to endure unwanted sex solely for your partner's benefit. Don't feel obligated to endure unwanted sex in order to "earn" aftercare, affection, or human contact.
> 
> If nothing else, _please_ don't feel obligated to continue having sex just because you consented at the beginning.
> 
> Enthusiastic, informed, and ongoing.
> 
> (I promise Alik will get on that level soon.)


End file.
